Painful Love
by gayforthewindyboy
Summary: *TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDAL ACTIONS AND SELF HARM* "I lay awake until the early hours of the morning, thoughts consumed with your name, while you sleep peacefully in another mans bed, my name never crossing your mind." - Dave Strider


Dave Strider ran his slim fingers through his blond locks and sat up in bed, glancing at the green numbers on his bedside clock, which read "4:38 a.m." He wasn't getting any sleep tonight, he knew that for sure. His thoughts were consumed with images and bad things and good things and just... Things. Too many things. He needed to clear his mind before he had to start his first job. He stood up and stretched, his white v-neck stretching above his boxers, showing off his visible v-line. His choice of nightwear was simple. A random shirt he pulled out of his dresser drawer, and his boxers. He didn't need anything else besides that. Not anymore.

His apartment was of nice size. He had a full kitchen, a decent sized living room, a medium sized bathroom, and a masters bedroom. He has to work two jobs to pay for the place, but he believes it's worth it. He quite enjoys living there. He slowly walked out of his room and into the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face, grabbing the nearest cloth and wiping the water off. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. He was a wreck, to say the very least. Eyes red and puffy, dark circles outlining each of them. Hair shaggy and in need of a trim, and he was paler than usual. His eyes narrowed slowly, picking out each and every one of his flaws. Soon enough, he became angry with himself.

You're such a fuck up, you can't do anything fucking right. You lose everyone you ever care for. Rose? Fucking gone, you dumb ass. Jade? Hardly talks to you. And now you've lost your fucking boyfriend as well.

His arm pulled back and his fist slammed into the mirror, the pieces of glass shattering around the sink and floor. His knuckles were bleeding, but he didn't care. He couldn't feel it. He couldn't feel anything but the emptiness that was growing inside him, each and every day he laid alone in bed. Fingers tangled in his hair, he sunk to the ground, refusing to let the tears fall. He couldn't be weak. he had to be stronger. He had to prove to anyone who was out there, watching him, that he did not care that his heart was smashed, trampled on, and cut into pieces. He had to be okay. He was Dave fucking Strider, for fucks sake. He HAD to be perfectly fine. Cool with it. Act as if it didn't bother him, when in reality, it killed him. He never knew a break up could be this painful.

Not even a month before, they were happy. Smiling, laughing, kissing, LOVING each other. What happened within that month that made the man he loves walk right out of his life, as if he didn't matter at all? Dave didn't know, nor would he ever know. He stopped trying to guess, his last guess being that maybe he wasn't enough for him anymore. He shakily stood up, wrapping his hand in a wet cloth. He leaned against the sink for support, taking a deep breath. It was time to begin his day, again, with the same routine that has been going on for weeks now.

He cleaned up the glass, and dumped it in the trash. He got in the shower for 5 minutes, doing everything he needed to do in that time. He couldn't bare being in there for too long. The memories the shower held were too great for him to deal with. He got out, got dressed, and ate a few bites of an apple before throwing it away, unable to stomach much. He shoved his shoes on, pulled his shades down, and walked out of his apartment complex, locking the door behind him. He then went to his first job. He was there for several hours, and then he came home. He undressed, ate something small for dinner, then prepared for his second job. Cover up for the dark circles, contacts for the red eyes, slutty outfit, and he was ready to go. Once that was done, he came home, undressed, and laid in bed, looking for new ways to hate himself.

Weeks turned into a couple of months, and even Rose called Dave to see how he was. He didn't answer though. Oh no, he couldn't answer. He wasn't worthy of talking to them. They deserved the other Dave, not the shell of a man they used to know. Jade stopped by a few times, but Dave never answered the door. She left letters though, and he re-read them a lot, hoping to find something about the man he loved written in between the letters and words, but it was all the same.

"How are you?" "Are you okay?" "Can I do anything for you?" "Talk to me, okay?" "I'm here for you, Dave." "I love you." "I'm sorry this happened." "Please don't leave completely."

Only Jade knew how dire this situation was. She knew his past, his thought process, his everything. She used to be his best friend, and then she just... Disconnected from the blond. He managed to write a letter back once, but crumpled it up and threw it away. She didn't need his pathetic whining. She should be focusing on her own life, and not his. He wrote multiple letters after the first one, each addressed to a specific person, but he could never send them. It wasn't time. Not yet, anyway.

Eventually, it was all too much. he relapsed. He stood in the shower, razor torn apart, the blades littering the bottom of the tub. He picked one up, admiring the smoothness of it, the silver color, the sharp edge. It was the thing that was gonna take away his pain, even if for a short time. He pressed it against his pale thigh, dragging it quickly, so it would be deeper. His small smile of pleasure entered his face. He forgot how good this feeling was, how relaxing and calming it would feel after. He did it again, and again, and again, until his legs were dripping red, swollen cuts covering the tops, sides, and backs of his thighs. He felt amazing in those moments following each cut. it was as if nothing mattered but the blade and the pain. It felt good.

He felt mental for even thinking those words, but he couldn't help it. He loved the feeling of it. Since he started again, there was no way he was going to stop, especially since he had no one to stop him anymore. He wouldn't let them close enough. He packed away his blade, hidden in the medicine cabinet, behind a bunch of pill bottles. His eyes lingered on them for a moment longer than necessary, before he closed the door, breaking his eye contact with the substances. He cleaned up his legs, rinsed out the tub, and put pants on, feeling the need to hide his wounds from the world.

You worthless little fuck. Going back to old habits I see. God, no wonder he fucking left your ass. You're pathetic. A waste of space. Kill yourself.

He ignored them, for the most part, He turned on the television and watched some mind-numbing show before his alarm went off, signaling it was time for another day to begin. He went through the motions, but called off his second job, He couldn't go in with fucked up legs. He said he wasn't feeling good, and may be out for a week. He left for his first job, forgetting to lock the door behind him. When he arrived home, there was a surprise waiting for him.

"Dave, I've been knocking and sending letters and trying to get you to talk to me for ages!" Jade's voice rang through the apartment as Dave stood in the doorway, frozen.

"What are you doing here." His voice was cold and raspy, not used to using it. His jobs didn't require much talking, and he was alone for the past few months. There was no need to talk.

"I'm here because I'm worried about you," she sighed, stepping over to him. "Why won't you talk to me?"

"Because I don't need to, that's why. Now leave." He was being harsh, he knew, but he couldn't have her getting close again and leaving him.

"Why?"

"Because, Jade, I don't need you. I'm fine, now leave me the fuck alone," Dave growled, opening the door wider. "Now leave."

"No."

"Excuse me?" Dave's irritation was rising, and that wasn't a good thing.

"I said no, Dave. I'm going to stay here until you talk to me."

Dave stepped close to the raven haired girl, leaning down so he was face to face. "I don't fucking need your help, Jade Harley. Leave me the fuck alone. There's a reason I haven't been responding to you."

She looked taken aback for a moment. Dave saw pain flash through her green eyes before she hid it well. "Oh? And what is that reason?"

"Can you just go? I really don't want to hurt you." His fists were clenching at his sides, his eyes narrowed at the glasses below him.

"You wouldn't hurt me." She whispered softly. "But fine, I'll go. " She stepped away, walking around the pissed off blonde, disappearing out the door. He closed the door, and sank to the ground, hugging his knees.

It was for the best, you freak. She deserves better.

He agreed with them this time. Jade did deserve better. She deserved a stable best friend, not a dead-beat suicidal freak like himself. He stood up, and walked to his bedroom, flopping onto the bed. He was too upset to eat, so he just laid there. Thoughts ran through his mind, and he started planning again. Planning everything. This time he couldn't fail. he just couldn't.

He called his first job, saying he was sick. He wrote down his letters, starting with Rose.

Dear Rose,

I am sorry. So fucking sorry that you have to read this. I don't know

what to say anymore, I love you, sis. I'm sorry for everything I did that

made you stop talking to me. Please don't hate me.

Love, Dave.

And then it was Jade.

Dear Jade,

I love you. Please, don't ever forget that. You've been a great friend, but

nothing you could have done would have saved me. It's gotten to be too

much. It hurts, it really fucking hurts. It's been months, but nothing I have

done will make the pain go away. The thoughts, the urges, the pictures,

the everything. I guess life just wasn't for me. Life isn't for everyone.

Please, I'm begging you. Don't hate me. Don't forget me.

Love, Dave.

And finally, him. John.

Dear John,

I'm sorry, I'm sorry I wasn't enough, I'm sorry I wasn't more interesting,

better looking, stronger. I'm sorry I wasn't enough for you to love. I tried,

I did. I tried so hard, but I guess my hardest wasn't enough for you. I love

you, John. I love you so fucking much. If you look in my top left drawer,

you'll find the promise ring I was going to give you on our anniversary. We

didn't make it till then, and I won't make it till then. Please don't blame

yourself, you deserved better than my piece of shit self. You're too amazing

for someone like me. I hope he makes you happy, babe. Just know this.

I lay awake until the early hours of the morning, thoughts consumed with

your name, while you sleep peacefully in another mans bed, my name never

crossing your mind. You were my first thought every morning, and my last

thought every night. You were in my dreams constantly. You were in every

memory of me. Remember our first kiss? I do. Remember that time in the

bathroom where you tripped and fell into the water that I had in the tub,

since I was getting ready to take a nice bath? I do. Do you remember when I

first asked you out, when we first became friends, the first time I said I love

you? When you promised to never leave my side? I remember all of those.

All the memories with you in it are crossing my mind as I write this letter. I

love you, John Egbert. You were my one and only. I hope you live a good life.

Forever and always,

Dave Strider

Dave carefully placed the letters in separate envelopes, each with the names of the owners on it. Leaning them against the vase on his coffee table, he allowed himself to shed one tear. A single tear, holding all the love for each one of them. He stood up, walking to the bathroom. He barely registered what he was doing. He turned on the bath, and watched the water fill the tub. He got out the bottle of pills, mixing them all together, counting, and recounting them, until the bath was filled. There were over a hundred. 114 to be exact. He quickly rushed to the kitchen, filling up a glass of water, and downing a handful, repeating the process until all the pills were working their way to his stomach. He felt woozy, so he made his way back to the bathroom, letting the glass drop from his shaky hands and shatter on the ground. He didn't bother undressing before he crawled into the tub. He laid there, and waited for the darkness that was poking at the corner of his eyes, take over.

John walked into the apartment hurriedly, feeling something was off. He couldn't shake the feeling that something bad happened. "Dave?" his voice echoed the apartment, and he didn't receive an answer. He peeked into the kitchen, frowning at the broken glass on the floor. "What in the world," he muttered, glancing into the living room area. He saw the letters, and his thoughts instantly jumped to conclusions. He grabbed them, shuffling until he found his, and he ripped it open, reading it. "No. No no no no no. No. Fuck no. DAVE FUCKING STRIDER I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU ACTUALLY WENT THROUGH WITH THIS I WILL BRING YOU BACK TO FUCKING LIFE AND KILL YOU MYSELF," he screamed, dropping his letter and rushing around the apartment, searching for his beloved. He pushed open the door to the bathroom and fell the the floor, tears freely falling.

"Dave, you fucking bastard," he choked out before standing up, clambering into the tub, lifting him up, hoping for some sign of life. "How could you fucking do this.. How could.. H-How..." He whimpered, whipping out his phone.

"911, what's's your emergency?"

"M-My.. My uh... F-Friend tried to c-commit suicide and he-he's unconscious in the tub andIdon'tknowhwhattodoohmygodwhatdoIdowhatdoIdo?" His words jumbled together at the end, and the lady on the line had to wait a moment to get in a sentence.

"First, tell me where you are."

"495 Baker Street, Apartment 243B."

"I'll have the ambulance come right away. Please, stay calm, and try not to do anything rash, alright?"

"A-Alright," John felt a new wave of tears coming on, seeing his boyfriend, well, ex boyfriends body lay lifeless in the tub. He set the phone down, slowly walking over to him. The raven hair, bucked tooth boy could hear sirens wailing in the distance, getting closer by the moment. "You asshole," he whispered, crying. "You're such a fucking asshole. Dave, please, please, PLEASE, you HAVE to make it, you can't fucking die on me. Not today, please, not today."

Not even 5 minutes later, there were paramedics surrounding him. "Son, we're going to have to ask you to leave."

John obliged, only because he knew there was nothing else he could do. He felt defeated. Empty. Alone. He walked into their... Dave's.. room, and went through the top left drawer, searching for the promise ring. He slid it on his fingers, then followed them down the stairs and to the ambulance. He rode with them to the hospital, grasping Dave's hand desperately, begging him in his thoughts to wake up. Once at the hospital, he was forced to sit in the waiting room while they pumped his stomach, and did anything else they could to help him survive. He called Rose and Jade, in a haze, not remembering anything from the conversation other than "He tried to kill himself." They were there in a matter of minutes, each crying. John, though. He was too empty for tears. he just stared blankly at the white wall as the bricks danced before his eyes, mocking him.

Hours passed with no sign of a doctor to tell them how their friend was doing. The girls eventually fell asleep, but John didn't. It was his fault. he knew it. If he wasn't such a dick head, and if he didn't leave Dave, this wouldn't have happened. He knew of Dave's past, from the snippets Jade has let out accidentally. His eyes rose at the noise of a door opening, and footsteps coming closer. "Dave Strider?"

John stood up quickly, ignoring the dizzy feeling. "That's us. How is he?" His voice was pleading, he NEEDED to know how his best friend, his love of his life, was.

The doctor gave him a somber look, and John just knew. Dave didn't make it. Dave was gone. Dave succeeded. Dave was... Dead.

John fell to the floor, his knees thudding against the cold tiles. "No," he whispered. "This... He couldn't have... No."

The girls awoke due to the noise and watched their friend slowly break in front of their eyes.

John loved him. John was in love with Dave. John wanted to follow in his footsteps, knowing that nothing would ever be the same, but he refused. He had to live. He knew that is what Dave would have wanted. He needed to be strong for Jade and Rose as well. John slowly stood up, turning to them, and nodding to the door. They wiped their eyes and followed him out, and from their they went to the apartment, and started cleaning and planning everything they needed to.

The entire time, Dave was in his mind. He couldn't stop seeing his smile, hearing his laugh, and feeling his touch. John was devastated at the fact that he would never have the chance to tell Dave those three words, ever again.

Dave was gone, taking away John's heart with him.


End file.
